


She's with her

by lbmisscharlie



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: 2016 US Presidential Election, Banter, Elections, F/F, I apologize to everyone who is tired of election talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 05:01:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7154615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lbmisscharlie/pseuds/lbmisscharlie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paris reacts to Donald Trump's candidacy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She's with her

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt from [notatumblerdot](https://notatumblerdot.tumblr.com).

Paris lives for election season. After November 2008, she had stalked Nate Silver until managing to corner him at a coffee shop in order to interrogate him about his prediction methods, and her live-tweets in 2012 called states and castigated CNN’s pathetic holographic technology equally. So Rory started gearing up for 2016 sometime around Christmas 2014. 

As predicted, Paris was loud and mouthy; if Rory still had a hint of hero-worship around Hillary Clinton, Paris had a political fanatic’s approach to her, able to reel off stats, quotations, and criticisms at a snap. With her usual impatience, Paris had no time for a messianic approach to any candidate; as the primaries progressed and delegates racked up, she shouted more than one Bernie Bro into silence and disabused the idealism of more than one doe-eyed young intern at her firm about Clinton’s history.

(When it came down to it, Rory knew Paris couldn’t help but be swayed a little by the prospect of the President being a woman who had played the game, with sharp pantsuits and sharper tongue, for decades against sexist opposition.)

But somehow this year, it was the Republican run-off that Rory secretly lived for: Paris, out-shouting all the seemingly dozens of prospective candidates at each debate, the insults flung at the television far more creative than any produced on the stage; Paris, angrily typing op-eds correcting each and every falsehood in the candidate’s stump speeches; Paris, getting herself worked up enough that when Rory finally turned the TV off and straddled her lap to distract her, Paris fucked her right there in the living room, legs spread wide over her lap, so that Rory was sore for days. 

So when she saw the first tweet breaking the news that Trump had received enough delegates to be declared the likely nominee, she braced herself for havoc at home. It was even odds to be either dishes thrown or 3,000 words written; Paris in her anger contained multitudes. 

Behind the door, the apartment was quiet. Rory cautiously turned the key and creaked the door open; inside the lights were low. When she stepped into the living room, she didn’t see Paris at first, the only illumination coming from the muted television and not quite reaching the sofa. She flipped the light switch.

On the sofa, a messy blonde bun and two hands, holding a pint of ice cream, emerged from a pile of blankets. “Paris?” Rory stepped closer; she thought she heard a groan from within the depths. “Paris, honey, are you okay?” The groan again, sounding distinctly negative. Reaching out, Rory tugged one blanket down, revealing Paris’s head. Her eyes were red-rimmed, mascara smeared. 

“It actually happened,” she said. The ice cream carton tipped precipitously; Rory grabbed it before the melted mess inside could spill and set it on the table. “I didn’t think – I didn’t want to think it could.”

Tucking her knees under her, Rory curled on the sofa next to her, one arm going around Paris’s shoulder. “I know, hon,” she said, kissing her temple.

“I didn’t think I could be so – so disappointed in humans,” Paris said, turning wide eyes to Rory. 

Rory shook her head. “They just live to surprise you, don’t they?” Paris moaned, and collapsed a little bit deeper against Rory’s chest. Rory sighed. It would be a long six months until November.


End file.
